


#NotAllMen

by lostmagician



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mentors, Relationship(s), Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25495357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostmagician/pseuds/lostmagician
Summary: Johnny is different from the others. Tory sees it in the way he treats the class. When he corrects moves, his hands are expert and precise. When he speaks, he stands at a respectable distance and keeps his eyes above shoulder-level.Maybe he's a good man,the little voice says inside her head.No. There areno such thingas good men.
Relationships: Johnny Lawrence & Tory
Comments: 25
Kudos: 181





	#NotAllMen

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember what prompted me to write this, but it's been sitting in my rough drafts forever.
> 
> Warning for non-con kissing.

Johnny is different from the others. Tory sees it in the way he treats the class; there’s justice in the way he handles the students.

When he corrects moves, his hands are expert and precise. They don’t linger.

When he speaks to his students, he stands at a respectable distance and keeps his eyes above shoulder-level unless the situation requires otherwise. His voice stays curt, straight to the point.

For all intents and purposes, he seems like a good man.

Which makes him that much more tantalizing.

* * *

Tory sees him for the first time in a YouTube ad. She’s watching self-defense videos when his face pops up on the screen. He’s dressed in a sleeveless black gi and a headband, his lean body demonstrating a string of kicks and punches.

He ends the video by staring directly into the camera. “Join Cobra Kai today.”

It just so happens that Tory is searching for a new Sensei.

She doesn’t tell her mom. She needs to make sure Johnny’s the real deal first. So, she hitches a ride and decides to make an entrance on her first day.

Kicking Miguel’s ass is easy. He’s tall and experienced, but he has no idea how to defend himself in a real fight. He’s also intimidated by the fact that she’s a girl. She’s dressed up for the occasion too; tight leggings and a crop top that she stole from Topshop. She wouldn’t have stolen it if the saleswoman hadn’t given her dirty looks the second she entered the place.

Anyway, back to Johnny—she fully expects him to devour her with his gaze. Even Kreese takes a good look at her, his beady black eyes traveling slowly down her body when he thinks she’s not looking.

But not Johnny. His eyes stay fixed on her face.

“What’s your name?” he asks in a voice that demands an answer.

“Tory,” she says, and then smirks. “With an Y.”

A flash of recognition crosses his features. She doesn’t understand why. It doesn’t matter, because Johnny is already walking to the front of the class and easing into a formal stance.

“Okay, well this is a dojo, not a nightclub. So, I expect you dress accordingly.”

Tory bites back a smile. She gets in line, giddy at having finally found her golden ticket.

* * *

Classes go on as normal for the next few weeks. Johnny doesn’t hold back during lessons. He teaches them all kinds of moves, and creates combos for them to improve on their agility. Tory likes it. She finally has an outlet for all the pent-up energy inside of her. But she can’t help but feel like something is wrong.

Johnny is hiding something. She can feel it in her bones.

If life taught her anything, it’s that men were wolves in sheep clothing; even the good ones, they always ended up showing their true colors sooner or later.

But Johnny is clever. He doesn’t let anything past the good guy exterior he’s got going on. He doesn’t steal glances at her, doesn’t let his hands wander. Even when she asks him to correct her heron stance for the third time, and _Is it normal that my hamstrings are so tight?_ He doesn’t give in.

So, Tory decides to up her game. Johnny said she had to wear a gi. He never said anything about make-up. She does research before the next class. All it takes is one click of the mouse, and she has a full tutorial under her hands. She rifles through her mother’s drawers, and gets to work.

It goes as good as she expects. All the other students stare at her the moment she enters the dojo. She scoffs internally. These teen boys with their pubescent hormones—their dicks stand up if the wind blows in the right direction.

Johnny doesn’t rise to the bait though. He takes one look at her face, and his features harden.

“You.” He jerks his chin in her direction. “In my office.”

The rest of the class goes silent. Tory drops her bag on the mat and follows him inside. Her heart is racing in her chest. Why does she feel like she’s being called to the principal’s office? She can already hear Kreese taking over the lesson in the dojo.

Johnny leans his hip against his desk, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“What’s that on your face?”

“I was with a friend,” she lies, keeping her chin high. “I didn’t have time to go home and wash my face.”

Johnny nods. “And the fact that you’re late?”

“I lost track of time.” It was only ten minutes. What was the big deal? Johnny raises an eyebrow, and Tory’s chest tightens. “Would you like me to stay after class? Make up for the lost time?”

She’s finally going to know the truth. Johnny is going to show himself. _He’s going to say yes._

He stares at her, and she feels split open, like he can see all her insides on the outside. She feels like she’s on fire.

“No,” Johnny says, his eyes dropping to the table before traveling back up. “I’d rather you not join the lesson. It’ll teach you to organize yourself better next time.”

Her face goes red. What? She was so _sure_ that he was going to say yes. She nods and walks into the dojo, grabs her bag.

 _Maybe he’s a good man after all,_ the little voice says inside her head.

No.

There are _no such thing_ as good men.

* * *

She’s sparring with Miguel, but he’s not even paying attention. His eyes are glazed over, probably thinking about that stupid Samantha girl.

It’s the perfect opportunity to put her plan into action.

Just as she’s about to aim a hammerfist punch, he jerks back and lands a crescent kick to her knee. She dodges it with her ankle.

She falls to the floor with a cry.

Miguel’s eyes widen in worry, and he hurries to her side. “Oh my God, Tory. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she says, sitting up. It actually _hurt._

“What happened?” a sharp voice says from across the dojo.

“Sorry, Sensei,” Miguel starts blabbering. “I wasn’t paying attention and I- I-”

“Are you okay?” Johnny draws closer, and stands over her.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He bends down and helps her up by the elbow. She groans, and tries to holds herself steady on one foot. Johnny rolls his eyes, and secures a strong hand around her waist.

“Okay, come with me,” Johnny says, as he helps her hobble her way to the office.

He releases her once she’s close enough to the desk. She sits on a chair, while he rummages in the cupboard and takes out a first aid kit. Then he kneels down on the floor in front of her, and cradles her foot in his lap.

Her mind is racing, her body still feeling hot from the hand around her waist. The way he’s kneeling in front of her, she feels like a queen before her court.

_Whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed, you need to breathe in, breathe out, okay? Tory, do you hear me?_

He checks her ankle, stretching it in every direction. There’s a small crease between his eyebrows—like he actually _cares_.

Tory is shaking. She tells herself that if she stretches her foot, just a few inches, she could reach between his legs. Maybe then he’d look at her and drop the act. This stupid stupid act where he pretends to be a good guy.

He wraps up her foot in a compression bandage. When he looks up, his face smooths out, and his lips quirk in a small smile.

“That should do it,” he says, tapping her foot softly before setting it back on the floor. “You can sit out the rest of the class.”

Then, he calls Aisha to help her back into the dojo. Tory watches him walk out of the office.

She goes back to feeling like a peasant.

* * *

Johnny’s drunk. He’s sitting in his office chair, legs splayed wide open. His eyes are closed, his chin to his chest. There’s an empty bottle of scotch on the table.

He looks really, really sad.

“Sensei Lawrence,” Tory says, tapping the door with her knuckles.

He straightens his head and blinks slowly, like an owl.

“Tory?” he says, slurring. “What are you doing here?”

“I forgot my bag,” she says as she steps into the room. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, she thinks he didn’t hear her. He stares at the floor with glassy eyes and down-turned lips.

Then, he shakes his head, and swallows thickly. “My friend died.”

Her heart stops. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—” she comes close to him, and leans against the table, until his hand nudges against her hip. “Were you close?”

Johnny drops his head back. His eyes are squeezed shut and there’s a bob in his throat. “Friends for over thirty years.”

Tory bites her lip, and hesitates a little before laying a hand on his wrist. “I’m so sorry.”

Johnny hums, and she strokes his skin. There are fine hairs there; they’re coarse, manly. She breathes slowly. _Think before you act, Tory._ But he looks so sad and vulnerable, and— and Tory wants to make him feel better. She wants to wipe off that look from his face.

She leans forward, puts a hand on his cheek, and dips in for a kiss. She feels thin lips under hers, smells scotch and the spicy smell of cologne before Johnny jerks his head back.

“What are you doing?” Johnny asks, and he’s blinking fast like he’s trying to sober up.

She can feel the wide expanse of his chest under her hand. “It’s okay, nobody needs to know,” Tory says, and there’s a voice inside of her that’s screaming. But it’s too late to backtrack now. She kisses him again and uses his surprise to straddle his lap and sit on his thighs.

His mouth is slack, like he doesn’t know what the hell is going on. His hands come up to her ass, more to ground himself than to cope a feel.

Johnny pulls his head back, breathing heavily. “Tory, you need to stop.”

“Yeah?” she says, grinding her hips down, feeling his bulge when—

“Tory,” he says louder, and then he’s getting up, dislodging her with the full force of his body. She falls to the floor, and grunts when her head knocks against the door frame.

He’s standing over her, swaying on his feet, his breath coming out in short pants. He seems in shock. “I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean—”

She has so many emotions warring inside of her. She can’t filter through them; they’re swarming over her like ants, fiery little ants.

Johnny bends down to help her up. “Tory—”

“Don’t touch me!” she screams, pushing him away. She gets to her feet and storms out.

* * *

Tory can’t remember the last time she took her medication. She stopped taking it sometime during her manic high. Her mother finds out too late, right before she crashes. Now, the days pass in a haze of crying jags and late-night binges. Time has no more meaning to her.

All she knows is that she’s falling. It feels like one second ago, she was on top of a mountain, and now, she’s sinking into the pit of the earth.

There’s a knock on her bedroom door. She pulls the cover up to her chin.

“Go away,” she says. She just wants to be left alone.

“Tory,” her mother’s soft voice filters through the door. “There’s someone here to see you.”

The door opens. Tory has a split-second to notice Johnny, before she buries her face into the pillow, ashamed. She hasn’t showered in a week. She stinks, and her hair feels like a rat’s nest.

“Hey,” Johnny says, darting a quick look around the room before settling on her.

It’s a mess, a scrambled mess like the wires in her brain. She wants to tell him to go away, but she can’t. The words are stuck in her throat, buried beneath layers of doubt and self-loathing. Her voice doesn’t matter when she’s shrouded in darkness.

Johnny isn’t bothered by the answering silence. He walks in slowly. Then, he hesitates, before grabbing a chair from her desk and sitting close to her. She stares down at the bed sheet, but she can see him in her peripheral vision. He’s dressed in jeans and a black shirt.

He leans forward with his hands joined between his knees. There’s a long silence. “Your mom told me you have bipolar disorder.”

Tears rise to her eyes, hot and burning. She feels so ashamed. She never wanted to be known as the crazy girl. The girl who threw herself at older men, who didn’t know her limits, who—

“Hey, hey,” Johnny’s voice cuts through her thoughts. “Come on. Don’t do that.”

But she can’t stop. She’s openly crying now, ragged sobs escaping her chest until she’s left gasping for breath.

A hand pulls her until she’s sitting up. The mattress dips next to her, and a strong arm wraps around her. She presses her cheek against Johnny’s chest, and continues to cry. She tries to speak, cut-off words and broken moans, but he just shushes her—his deep voice washing over her, a mix of _it’s okay_ and _everything will be alright._

Why was she like this? Why couldn’t she ever control herself? The questions only make her cry harder. She lets it all out, the guilt, the self-recrimination. Johnny takes it in stride, one tear at a time.

When she’s done crying, her cheeks are burning and her head is spinning. Johnny is a solid presence against her, and she basks in his warmth. For the first time in a long time, she feels safe. They stay like that until her breathing slows down, and she’s left sniffling the last of her tears.

She feels herself being pushed back by the shoulders. Johnny looks at her, and his eyes are a startling blue, like a beacon of light in the darkness.

“Tory, I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” he says, before swallowing thickly. “All I know is that I can’t give you what you want.”

Her gut twists. She knew it—he was going to kick her out, it was over. It was all over. She turns away, not wanting him to _see—_

“No, no. Look at me.” Johnny says, shaking her by the shoulder until their eyes meet again. “I can’t give you what you want, but—I can give you what you need. I can be your Sensei. I can—I can be your teacher, your mentor.” He bites the corner of his lip. “I just need you to let me.”

She opens her mouth, but she doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t understand. Why? Why is he being so _nice_ to her?

Johnny seems to read her mind, because his lips curl into a smile, that manages to look both sad and sincere at the same time.

“In Cobra Kai, we leave no one behind.”

For once, his words echo in her soul.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed the story. *:･ﾟ✧


End file.
